Picture Perfect
by nocte-caelum
Summary: Mattie's family. The Bonnefoy-Kirkland's. Sociable, welcoming and well-liked. Psychotic, murderous and dangerous. For the last sixteen years of his life, Mattie has been the only 'normal' one is his family. Not that it ever helped. His brother is still the favourite, nobody notices him and he is tired of it. So he does something that they will never dare forget. 2p!FACE family.


**Sooooo...**

 **I haven't posted in a _very_ long time, which is probably beacuse I can never finish a full-length fic, and most of the little plot bunnies that crawl in my head are for...full-length fics! (Surprise, surprise!) Anyway, this is just a little 2p!FACE family AU featuring 1p!Canada at the start. Enjoy! •^_^•**

 **Disclaimer: I do not (unfortunately) own Hetalia. Hidekaz Himaruya is the only one who can claim that right (sadly).**

* * *

"Want a cupcake, darling?" Mattie could hear Oliver's voice from across the hall.

"No." Was his brother's dead reply.

"Aww, but I made your favourite - red velvet!" Their dad crooned.

Mattie internally winced. They weren't five anymore - not that it mattered to Oliver.

"I said no! Last time I ate one of your cupcakes I was in hospital for a week because of your 'special ingredients', asshole! Besides, your definition of what makes a red velvet cupcake is very different to mine." Mattie could practically hear Oliver's scowl.

"What have I told you about swearing, Allen! Why, I should-" Oliver's overly-cheerful voice was cut off by a heavily accented interjection from Francois.

"Leave the boy alone, _Olivier_ ," he slurred, and Mattie could hear him stumbling down the hallway.

"No one asked you, you drunkard! Where were you? Is that perfume I smell?!" Oliver's voice faded away with a patter of footsteps as he followed his husband.

Mattie sighed. It wasn't like he expected them to notice him. He just hoped...oh well. It was probably better this way - at least he was less likely than Al to end up in one of Oliver's cupcakes one day.

"Family conference in five, poppets!" Oliver's cheerful voice called up the stairs.

Mattie rolled out of bed and followed his brother into the living room, where Oliver sat behind a tray of cupcakes, and Francois opposite him, a cigarette already alight in his mouth.

"Hmm, Mattie! I hadn't realised you were home right now!" Oliver said pleasantly.

Mattie scowled. "Where else would I be?"

The sullen tone of his son's voice did nothing to dampen Oliver's happy expression. It was only the odd swirling of pink and blue in his eyes that told Mattie that his dad wasn't in as good a mood as it seemed.

"I have called this conference, because there are a few problems we need to discuss as a family! First off, Allen. Please cease your smoking, or at least cut down. I've had several comments on how either you or the house smells, and I'm just thankful that all those insipid women are too ignorant to recognise the scent of marijuana." Allen scowled, pulling out a joint and lighting it, before taking a long drag, as if to say ' _so what?_ ' "And you, Francois. Your filthy habits need to stop. I allow your drinking, but you will. Not. Cheat. On. _Me_. Do you understand?"

The Frenchman stared at his husband with a glazed-over look in his eyes. Then the arguments started.

 _Am I really that unnoticeable?_ Mattie thought to himself. _I can't really be. That new kid, Gilbert, he notices me. Maybe if everyone were like Gilbert...or maybe I would just have to make them remember. Do something they could never forget._

In the midst of their shouting, none of Mattie's family noticed him disappear upstairs. Nor did they notice when he reappeared with a chipped, old hockey stick wrapped in barbed wire. A gag gift from Al the one year he had remembered his twin, Mattie had never used the 'weapon'. Not yet, at least.

He jabbed it between Oliver and Francois, who were standing chest to chest as they growled at each other, Oliver's hands inching closer to Francois' neck as his husband's did the same. Allen had given up, collapsing back on the sofa with his joint, and watching with a dazed, disinterested look.

Mattie's parents stumbled back from each other as the wire ripped lines in their shirts.

"Mattie, poppet, what-" Oliver started, his pleasant smile back in place.

"Shut up. I'm tired of being forgotten, okay? And I thought that maybe if you can't remember me, if my _own twin brother_ can't remember me, then maybe you need a little _help_." He punctuated the last word with a jab of his hockey stick at Oliver's chest.

The strawberry-blonde stumbled backwards, and within seconds Mattie had tackled him, and was beating him harshly with the stick, each hit making Oliver's skin more and more bloody, and yet the man was still smiling.

Deciding he was done, Mattie turned to Francois, who grimaced, about as close to a smile as he could get, and Mattie wasted no time putting his other dad into a similar state as Oliver.

Finally, when the two men lay still in the floor, spattered with blood - their own and each others - Mattie picked his brother up by the collar and flung him to the floor, where the brunette lay lazily, grinning at his brother.

"I like this you, Matt," he slurred, smiling even as he was beaten bloody.

Satisfied with his work, Mattie turned to left, hoping to be able to clean his new favourite weapon. His family lay on the floor, all wearing smiles of varying degrees.

Before he left the room, Mattie turned to face his immobile family members. "And if you ever need a reminder, rest assured you'll have it."

As it turns out, no reminder was necessary. Never again was he forgotten by his family, Al especially, whose nickname of 'Matt' for his brother had caught on, and soon enough everyone who knew him called him 'Matt' rather than 'Mattie'.

Matt couldn't say he was unhappy with the development - 'Mattie' did have an almost babyish tone to it, after all.

Slowly, one by one, everyone at school learnt Matt's name and face. A fair few had to play a little game of hockey with their classmate, but they never again forgot who he was.


End file.
